


Strawberry

by MeltedIceAngel



Series: Seven Down [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Apocalypse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 04:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20420168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeltedIceAngel/pseuds/MeltedIceAngel
Summary: The last time Jisung had willingly handed over food to a family, it had led to Chenle on his knees with a gun held to his temple, and later two sprawled out bodies leaking blood that soaked and stained the ground red.





	Strawberry

Jisung had been merciful at one point. Back before he learned one too many times that giving in was giving up, and that what helped others hurt his own people. His own family. He had given food, shelter, and comfort to those that had come across what they’d scavenged as a home, and each time it had been a mistake. Either they awoke to supplies stolen, or a gun held to their faces as they were threatened for the meager living space they had. 

The last time Jisung had willingly handed over food to a family had led to Chenle on his knees with a gun held to his temple, and later two sprawled out bodies leaking blood that soaked and stained the ground red. Chenle had looked at him with fear, wide-eyed and jaw slack, as he lowered his own gun and pried the food out of a dead woman’s hands. 

Renjun had compared him to a threatened animal; deadly and uncaring as he shot those people point blank without a flinch. He’d warned him that losing his humanity would be his downfall, but Jisung already knew. There was nothing left in him after Chenle pleaded for mercy that would never have been given. 

It was cloudy the next morning, and the rain that sprinkled down did little to help the dirt and blood crusted on his face. It had been at least two weeks since he’d last soaked himself in some sort of clean water, and the stench he carried like a cape was overwhelming. If it wasn’t for the group having similar issues, he wondered if anyone would even come near him. He rubbed the small drops of water all around his face, sighing as the blood finally began to drip down. 

“Jisung?” Jaemin whispered, the sound of his limp loud over the sound of rain and wind. The fourth time his generosity had ended in disaster.

“You should be inside.” Jisung whispered, looking back to catch Jaemin’s gaze. His face was covered in the same dirt and blood that was slowly starting to fall off Jisung’s own. 

“So should you.” Jaemin shrugged, limping forward slowly to come stand next to him. The smell coming off the elder could have tricked Jisung into thinking he was one of the dead.

“You smell like death. Someone’s going to mistake you for them.” Jisung voiced out loud. Jaemin just hummed, using his hands to straighten his leg out so he could stand properly. 

“Again, so do you.” Jaemin paused, looking out into the foggy distance. “You don’t have a dead man’s walk though. Guess you’ve got that going for you.” It was clear Jaemin was trying his best to joke, but Jisung couldn’t find a bit of humor in the statement. The other boy would die one day because someone couldn’t take the time to observe, and it would be all Jisung’s fault. 

“Why are you here?” Jisung asked. Jaemin shrugged and kicked at the gravel under his feet. 

“Chenle is worried about you.” Jaemin responded after a moment. “He says you haven’t spoken to him since yesterday. He thinks it’s his fault.” Jisung hissed, balling his fists up at his sides. Jaemin watched the way his fists clenched and unclenched, listened to the way his teeth grinded against each other, felt the way the air changed as the ridiculousness of Chenle’s guilt crashed over him.

“It’s that disgusting excuse for a man’s fault.” Jisung bit, and Jaemin just turned his gaze back toward the tree line several meters away. 

“He stopped being a man when he decided killing wasn’t below him.” Jaemin whispered, and Jisung bit his lip. 

“What does that make me, then?” Jisung asked, looking at Jaemin in the eye for the first time since he’d arrived. Jaemin shrugged and seemed to ponder this for a moment.

“Nothing that I wouldn’t become if someone had you on your knees.” Jaemin sounded sincere, but there was something about it that still made Jisung uneasy. Was he really primal, or animalistic, for killing those people? Chenle was his family, his other half, and they had him down on the ground with scraped knees and a purple bruise around his neck. They had him screaming for mercy, with tears falling down his face as they pressed the gun farther and farther into his temple. 

No, Jisung wasn’t sure if killing them made him a monster. Chenle was defenseless. He was innocent. Those people, that  _ man _ , was not. 

Jisung fiddled with the fraying edge of his yellow sweater, ignoring the blood stains that created a dotty path up the sleeves. It was the first thing Chenle had given him after the virus spread and they’d finally found a place to settle. It was near his birthday, Chenle had said. Jisung had worn it every other day since, and it was perhaps the only article of clothing he’d ever actually attempted to wash fully. 

“Jisung, Jeno killed the man that did this.” Jaemin whispered, motioning toward his crooked leg. Jisung hummed. He remembered that day very clearly. “I don’t look at him any different. If anything, I know that I have someone by my side that wouldn’t hesitate if it ever happened again.” 

“I did hesitate.” Jisung interrupted whatever Jaemin had intended to say after. The other just laughed, shaking his head.

“Really? Because it didn’t look like it.” Jaemin responded. “I swear, that man’s finger twitched and he was dead.” 

“Yeah, he should’ve been dead the second he put that gun to Chenle’s head!” Jisung shouted, ruining the calm atmosphere the conversation had been surrounded in previously. He took in a shaky breath, clenching his fists tight enough to break the skin of his palms. Jaemin waited for him to calm down, his eyes focused but relaxed as he stared forward. He wasn’t forcing himself to look away. “What would I have done? We already lost so many people, and I don’t know if I can do it without him. A monster now? I can’t imagine what I’d be then.” Jisung bit, letting the blood accumulating in his hands drop into the rocks below. 

“You’re not a monster for protecting him, Jisung.” Jaemin clarified. “I don’t know what you are, but you’re not that. Jeno’s not a monster for protecting me.” 

“Then what am I? Because you just said I wasn’t a man anymore.” Jisung asked, his wandering eyes catching Chenle’s staring out of the screen door to the house they’d occupied. No, he wasn’t a monster for saving him. He  _ wasn’t.  _

“Give me time. I’ll figure it out.” Jaemin answered, and Jisung just sighed. He needed to go to Chenle. This conversation was needed but not outside, and for sure not with so many open ended answers. He’ll give Jaemin time to decide what word he wants to call Jeno that’s fitting enough, and then maybe they’ll be able to have a real conversation. 

“Jisung!” Chenle called, pointing out toward the wood that Jaemin had been staring at. There, in the tree line, were three dead walking along the edge. Both of them froze, praying that Chenle’s loud call hadn’t attracted their attention. As far as they knew, it hadn’t, and both of them made their way slowly back toward the house. Jaemin’s leg shuffled against the gravel, loud and grating on their ears as they inched back. 

Once Jisung helped Jaemin back up the stairs and into the house, Chenle shut the door. His hands were shaking, breathing rapid and wheezy as he went through and locked each and every lock. He even ran to shut the blinds on all the windows, double checking the locks on those and any other entrance into their home. Jisung waited, letting Chenle get through his anxiety ridden jog before approaching him.

“Hey,” Jisung said, and Chenle wasted no time before he fell into Jisung’s arms. He was whimpering, his nose stuffed up and hot as it laid against Jisung’s bare neck. He must have been crying for a while. “You’re safe, I love you.” Jisung whispered, running his fingers through Chenle’s dark hair. 

“I’m sorry.” Chenle cried, his voice hitching as he desperately tried to get the words out. Jisung shushed him, his arms wrapped tighter around the shorter man’s shoulders. 

“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” Jisung said, kissing Chenle lightly on the temple. The same one that had a gun pressed to it the day before. “You’re safe with me. You’re always going to be safe with me.” Jisung may not know what killing those people made him, but he knows that it kept Chenle safe. It kept him alive. 

“I know. I know.” Chenle repeated like a mantra, over and over until the words slipped from Korean to Chinese and back again. 

“Come on, let’s go to bed.” Jisung said, taking Chenle’s hand to lead him upstairs to their shared room. His neck was sticky and wet from Chenle’s tears, the cold from the bad weather making his skin chill. He shivered noticeably, Chenle’s hand rubbing up and down his covered arm. It was getting to the point they’d have to start looking for firewood again. 

Would they lose another person in their desperation to not freeze to death this winter?

They opened the creaky door to their room, both cringing at the sound it made. They still weren’t used to being allowed the luxury of unexpected noise after living in cars and backyard sheds for so long. Their futon was still laid out on the floor, dirty and unmade just as they’d left it. Jisung flopped down, head barely touching the single pillow they shared, and held out his arms for Chenle.

The older laid down gently, his head pillowed on Jisung’s chest and legs entangled with the taller’s. Jisung could have lost this. His whole world was lying in his arms, and if he had reacted a second slower he might have been in the ground with the rest of their family. He might have been one of  _ them _ . 

“Stop,” Chenle said, balling Jisung’s sweater up in his hands.

“Hmm?” Jisung asked.

“Stop thinking. I can’t think about it anymore.” Chenle said, tucking his head impossibly farther under Jisung’s chin. 

“I’m sorry, Jaemin has me running it through my head.” Jisung said, and Chenle just shook his head.

“No, stop. It’s over.” Chenle said, using his oversized sweater to wipe away his tears. Not his, not Jisung’s, but Kun’s. If Jisung never took off the yellow sweater, Chenle lived in Kun’s. It could’ve been molded to his skin for all the others knew. The only reason Jisung was sure the thing ever came off was because it was his hands that pulled it over his head. 

“What do you need, Chenle?” Jisung asked, and the other stilled.

“You.” Chenle answered, and Jisung grimaced as he slipped his hands under Chenle’s favorite sweater and pulled it off. He didn’t throw it like he used to, but instead folded it up and left it next to their futon for Chenle to put back on after they were done. Chenle did the same for Jisung’s own, but instead of right next to the bed, the sweater was placed by the door for Jisung to wash the next morning. 

For two young adults, they were slow when they were together. Back when they were still seventeen, it wasn’t the same. Everything was fast and dirty and new, but now it was desperate. Not for release, but for reassurance. Closeness. Jisung held Chenle like a lifeline as he felt his heat, listened to him whine, tasted him on his lips. He could’ve never had this again. 

Chenle could’ve been cold in the ground. He could’ve held him in his arms as he went from warm to cold, pliant to stiff, lips tasting of the last of the found strawberries to death. Jisung thinks he would’ve died with him, just like he reached his highest peak with him. He swore to Chenle that he would be there through everything. 

It wasn’t until they heard the tell tale sound of shuffling near their front door that Chenle pulled his forehead away from Jisung’s, his face flushed red and tears forming sticky tracks. “Inside,” He begged, and Jisung knew they should stop. They should be responsible and go downstairs and make sure nothing manages to get in. For once, Jisung ignored that part of his brain. 

He heard Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin grabbing their weapons from their shared room across the hall, but he still couldn’t leave Chenle. Long after they’d finished they stayed connected, their breaths coming in rough pants and bodies shaking from over stimulation. So far the sounds of gunshots had yet to permeate the air, and the shuffling hadn’t turned into anything more than that. 

“I love you,” Jisung whispered, leaning down to taste Chenle’s lips again. He tasted like strawberries from that mornings breakfast, and Jisung was slowly learning to attribute that taste to being alive. 

“Thank you,” Chenle said, breaking their kiss for just a moment. Jisung wanted to respond, tell him that as long as he was alive Chenle would be safe, but the taste of strawberries was overwhelming him the same way the alcohol in the cupboard downstairs did. 

“We should go,” Jisung says, motioning toward the door. 

“Not unless we have to.” Chenle said, shifting himself on the futon below him. Jisung knew his back ached, so reluctantly he pulled out and shifted Chenle onto his side. He used his long fingers to massage the cramped muscles in the others back out until the other was finally pliant and lose underneath him. 

“Do you want to get dressed?” Jisung asked, and Chenle shook his head. 

“I want to sleep.” Chenle said, motioning for Jisung to lay next to him. The other pulled their blanket from where Chenle had kicked it away earlier and pulled it over them, his mind drifting away from the sound of Jaemin, Jeno, and Renjun replacing their weapons in their room. “I love you, too.” Chenle responded finally, and Jisung placed a kiss on his temple. 

“My baby, go to sleep. You’re always safe with me.” Jisung said, and Chenle closed his eyes. It took the younger a while of checking Chenle’s breathing off and on before he finally managed to relax enough to fall asleep himself. As long as Chenle was still warm and relaxed, Jisung knew it would be alright. 

Together or not at all, he thought as he drifted off. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those stories that came from no where but feel like they could go somewhere. I'd like to elaborate on Kun and Jaemin, and maybe a few other characters in the future. I'm a sucker for zombie stuff, and I hadn't found anything for Chensung within that genre so I decided to throw caution to the wind and write some for myself. I wasn't very aware of Renjun or Jeno's characters at the time I wrote this, so excuse the fact they're scarce.
> 
> Ask me questions: https://curiouscat.qa/gypsyether


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